Putting Bones to Rest
by Zaydee Kaine
Summary: Can Loki be tamed by such a submissive damsel in the realm of Asgard?
1. Chapter 1

She always met his wit with snarky retorts. Whatever words he said when he tried to poke fun, she always spat back at him with cold calculation. He may have been prince, but she would not be having any of his pompous behavior. And that was what made him more attracted to her.

It was strange how it happened. At first he thought this was the way that she was with everybody, however he later learned that when she had disagreements with others, she was very quiet. It was true, he noticed when he was not trying to provoke her she became quite the astute young lady. She was quiet and soft, sweet and petite and had all the social graces of proper grooming that came from a lady raised in the gentry class. But when it came to him, whenever she heard his voice she seemed to cringe and tense; he took note of the muscles tightening around her collarbone.

As he watched her over the months, he would see if this muscle would tighten when she disagreed with somebody else, but it never would. It was only with him. And that got him thinking.

One evening he set up a scenario. He, Bertuccio and Sára would go for a walk under the guise that Bertuccio wanted to go walk under the evening stars with Sára. Then he would leave Loki and Sára alone to speak. And so the plan commenced and the lovely stroll took them down the steps towards the garden. After they stopped off at a small bench where Sára sat with a straightened back and perfected posture, Bertuccio feigned forgetting an important thing he had to tell somebody or other.

Sára stood up as Bertuccio rushed away, cold eyes turning to Loki though she tried to mask the mask that she put up. "I suppose we should stroll back to the party then," and as she went to turn, Loki grabbed her left arm gently,

"Hold on-" he was surprised by her next moves.

Sára pulled her arm away violently and hissed at him, "Don't touch me." She stood defiantly in front of him.

Loki was taken aback for a moment, and then it registered. She was very expressive through her eyes though she tried to hide it, for he had been studying her over the months. And he saw the flash of longing, the relaxing of her left shoulder from his touch. A sly smile crept on his face,

"An icy heart to rival my own," he bowed calculatedly.

"Don't," she whispered, trying to portray her spite for him in her voice, barely keeping it from cracking. Sára turned away rather than curtseying, and began to walk back to the party and Loki followed, a full smirk on his face now.

"Sára," he caught up to her and stopped her in her tracks by blocking her path, "Come now-"

"Get out of the way Loki," she said defiantly, unable to make eye contact. This was the exact interaction she did not want; she had been so very careful to never be alone with this God. With this gleaming, perfectly sculpted man who dealt fear and left chaos on his wake.

"I just want to speak to you Sára, if only briefly," He paused to take in their electric chemistry together before he continued, "please." It was not a question, for he was a God and a prince, and she _technically_ had to obey.

All Sára could do to reply was stand there and breathe. Then Loki took his chance, standing in front of her but he leaned slightly closer and to the side of her head, closer than he might otherwise had he been whispering something to his brother or advisor. He used a tone that could be mistaken for soft, but had a sinister undertone and an almost "I told you so" attitude.

"Despite your cold demeanor towards me, your blush tells me how you really feel. Your eyes are wide, your breaths stutter, and is not that the beginnings of a flush," he tilted his head slightly more towards her cheek, "that I see upon your skin? You cannot hide your true desires from me." He then leaned back so they were in their proper socially ascribed postures, and Sára stood there as she began to tremble. It was her deepest, darkest secret.

When they were children, it seemed like ages ago now to Sára, she had once fancied Loki. And before he was cruel, before he had really hit the peak of his teen years followed by the cruel man he had become, she had once seen his kind gaze laid upon her. That was before she left for her aunts home where she was taught all the finishing's of a proper young lady; perhaps he had not felt the spark as deeply as she for Sára suspected it was nearly all her own heart that had beat so frantically that day.

Since then she made a point never to be alone with Loki. She never allowed herself the comfort of his sole presence, until tonight.

Sára didn't make eye contact with him once he had leaned away from her. Instead she stood there for but a few seconds before she walked around Loki without another word, knowing he had gotten the upper hand in the situation. She let it go, and made her way back to the soiree with Loki following a few paces behind her.


	2. Chapter 2

He was doing this on purpose. And she knew it. It had happened again earlier in the day, several months after the first incident in the garden. Winter was quickly approaching and Sára was at the palace for an afternoon tea social. She had walked with Megen to one of the sitting rooms to discuss Megen's brothers' engagement. It was to be held when it was warmer, perhaps on the first day of spring. But those details became unimportant when Loki passed the room and backtracked to see the two women gossiping, just as he had instructed Megen to do. It was perfect, and all Loki's design.

Sára saw a dark figure pass the doorway, and then return and when she looked up, she saw Loki looking curiously in to the room. She paid him no mind but Megen turned around at that exact moment and looked startled. Both girls curtseyed while they echoed, "Your highness."  
"Megen, would you mind leaving us for a moment? I must have a word with Sára."

Megen used the best of her acting abilities and opened her mouth to protest, or ask if it was prudent for them to have a moment together without a chaperone. But she made it look like she thought better of questioning the prince and simply nodded, walking out the door past him. Loki stood several feet from Sára, who was trying to stare him down defiantly.

"D-"

"Wh-"

They both started their sentences at the same time, losing their breaths in the stutter of speaking at the same second. Sára's heart felt as though it were nearly pounding out of her chest, and Loki could feel the calm of the adrenaline that he suppressed as his cardiovascular system pumped it through his veins faster.

Loki approached Sára slowly, keeping eye contact. When he was close, he lowered his head and in nearly a whisper, he spoke, "Do you not even notice my laboured breath and the look in my eyes when I am in your presence?" He raised his eyes then to see Sára turn her eyes from the door where she had been staring, and she now met his eyes. They were still a good six inches apart, but Loki could smell the fresh alfalfa honey in the black tea she had been drinking and she could smell the orange blossoms from tea on his breath. They both inhaled

Sára's lips parted as her mind raced. Would she give in to him and allow her heart to open to him of all people; the God who had taken many women, the God who could choose any woman he wanted and discard her just as easily? The prince who had struck fear in the hearts of mortals and God's alike, and had brought cities to dust by causing nothing but doubt in their enemies minds? Her eyelids fluttered only twice before she whispered, "No," holding back everything she ever wanted to say to him.

Sára then walked past Loki as he straightened up his posture and he turned to her as she walked away, "Are you sure you want to play this little game with me, pet?" His tone was snarky, he was aiming to strike fear in her, to drive her away as he did with other women. He was predisposed to push those that he loved away after all that he had experienced in his many millennia. Sára had to take a deep breath as she heard him nearly spit that word, and that night she dreamt of him cooing it to her in the darkness.

Loki was circling like a vulture. He played this game swiftly, and only a week later he found himself alone with Sára once more. Granted, this time it was on the ballroom floor, however anyone who would listen to their conversation would get only bits and pieces, and nothing that they would be able to string together in to a coherent conversation. He asked her hand to dance in front of her parents, knowing she would not deny the honor of dancing with the prince.

So she took his hand unwillingly, white gloved hand fitting in to his as they made their way to the polished floor and took their normal positions. It was a dance that both had rehearsed for hours upon hours in their many years of training to become a productive member of society.

Loki was looking particularly stunning on this night, wearing his usual green and black but his hair was freshly trimmed and brushed back, and Sára noticed he was freshly shaved. She mentally scolded herself for looking so closely at his face as to notice such a thing, and she tried to make still her beating heart. They were well in to the dance before either of them spoke, and true to form, Loki did most of the talking with his notorious silver tongue.

"Your façade for being so pure is futile, for I can see how you feel behind your eyes. I will pull down your barrier," he paused in between each word now, "brick by brick," and each word struck a chord in Sára as she tried to remain calm in this awkward situation which she had no way out of except to wait the remaining four and a half minutes until the dance was over. Loki continued in his previously smooth manner, "and reveal your true cravings," he nearly whispered now, "what you burn for."

"Stop," was all she could say, the wind knocked out of her with his words. She could not make eye contact, yet he was staring intently at her eyes, waiting to catch a glance.

"Combating desire, battling against who and what you truly want, can be exhausting. I know what you dream of in the blackness of night, alone in your bed. My breath-"

"Please," she said it in just above a trembled whisper, and he realized he was close, ever so close to breaking her. For the first time since the dance had started nearly two minutes prior, she made eye contact, pleading for him to stop his approach upon her emotions and moral fibers. With that glance she gave him then, pleading for him to stop teasing her with frivolous words, he wanted to sooth her and see all her emotions.

It seemed he had overestimated her, though he analyzed that it was most likely because of her snarky demeanor she had always reserved especially for him. Her hand that laid placed in his for the dance had begun to tense and grip his hand rather than simply rest there as was customary, and so he backed off, remaining silent but staring her down for the rest of the waltz.

When the dance was over, she broke away quickly and went back to her parents after bowing, not sparing him two words after she curtseyed to him as was customary at the end of the dance. He had awakened an aching in her with simple words, something she had suppressed for years and now he had cracked it open in the course of four and a half minutes.


	3. Chapter 3

He was self-destructive. Now that he had her, that he knew he could take her, he wanted to push her away. He wanted to hurt her; ignore her when he saw her, smirk and be his usual tongue-and-cheek self only around her to make her feel emotionally thrown on a roller coaster that was his twisted mind. But he tried to refrain, because he knew she was something special. She was different, not something to be toyed with but something to be caught and cherished. So he tried to be on his best behavior as the winter turned to spring, bringing with it the sweet scent of blooming flowers and the first ball after the king's birthday that took place in the dead of winter. While that ball was always a great relief to relieve the boredom of cold winter days and nights, the first ball of spring was always a joyous occasion.

This time it was Sára's turn to make a move. She went in to the garden to wait by the small fountain lined with cherubs that spit out water so clear you could drink from it. Riley went to Loki and told him her location, though he did not say she would be there. He made up an excuse, something along the lines of a surprise waiting by the cherub fountain. And so he went, excusing himself from the group he had been presently talking with.

But for Loki, surprises were never good. So as soon as he stepped out in to the night air and felt the scent of fresh pollen hit his skin, he let a cold calculated mask fall over his face; this was the face he wore to protect himself. He made his way swiftly down the stone stairway, but turned right halfway down and followed the narrow walkway, coming up an unfamiliar route for most. He did not know what awaited him, but Loki always preferred to have the upper hand, especially in his own territory.

He turned right and took the last few steps down, his visage covered by the rose bushes on either side of the stone path before he slowed his steps, turning right once more and coming out on the opposite end of the fountain than she thought he would appear. He stood there, her back to him, and he watched how the dress curved over and around her body, falling to the floor. While it had straps, it was sleeveless and a peach color. She stood in a corner of this small, secluded spot that was surrounded on each side by 2-foot walls that then had tall bushes that were at least five feet planted atop.

He debated his words carefully, feeling his tongue flicking in his mouth before he settled on those two words that he said just loudly enough to speak over the gentle trickle of the fountain, "Good evening."

She had had her eyes downcast and hands clasped together before she raised her eyes, having not seen her come out of the corner of her eye. She turned slowly, calculatedly and saw him standing there, face mostly drenched in shadow though there were speckles of light on him from the moon that peaked through the spotty clouds. Sára could hardly find her words now that he was here; now that she had succeed in getting him here, all words were lost on her. She found it difficult to think around a God like him, especially when he filled so much of her dreams.

Sára opened her mouth to speak, trying to say something, anything that sounded as good as the words she dreamed he would say to her. She finally settled on something after nearly two seconds of silence, "We both know why I'm here."  
"We do, do we?" he asked, and if there had been enough light to see, she would have noticed the smirk on his lips as he walked towards her. She refused to take a step, making him come to her, but that was fine by him. Sára was about to open her mouth to say yes or anything that would affirm his question without sounding dim witted, but she found herself at a loss once more when she felt his hand gentle on her waist and realized how he had closed the several-feet gap between them so quickly.

He could feel her breath close to his face as she tried to work up some words, air out of her lungs but no words rising from her voice box. She could hear her pulse in her ears and feel it in her chest, and while Loki felt his heart pounding in anticipation of her, he was a warrior and he was trained in how to control the adrenaline that his heart pumped out at 100 beats per minute or more.

Loki leaned forward and spoke quietly in to her ear, his breath warm on her skin and brushing the bottom of her ear lobe. "You needn't argue with me, or yourself, any longer." He whispered to her in the darkness and she let her head fall only slightly, leaning in to him. "If you wish to know me in the most intimate ways, you can have all of that. If you wish my name to pass your lips, you need fear not, little one."

Sára bent her arm at the elbow and put her hand gently on Loki's back, feeling his rigid body below the layers of cloth he wore as formal clothing. He said these things to her and her breath caught in her throat, unable to return such words to him. And when he felt her paused breathing, he played his cards in just such a way as to make sure Sára would not only come back to him after tonight, but would also feel more secure as to their evolving relationship. He tilted his head to the left ever so slightly and placed a soft kiss on her throat, and he felt her exhale.

He then pulled her body closer to his so they were touching and he kissed her throat again, then once more with soft butterfly kisses. He had been with delicate women before and knew how to handle them, though he had to remind himself that she was not just any woman and he had to take care with her. He felt her other hand gently place itself on his chest, layers of cloth denying him the warmth and softness of her fingertips. HE could feel her pulse quicken underneath his lips. He kept kissing her throat softly and listened to her breathe with every touch of his lips to her salty skin, and there, mixed amongst the breeze and trickling water of the fountain and the party that commenced outside of this private space, he was able to provoke a soft moan from her lips which she promptly bit back, one of her front teeth biting in to her bottom lip. It was just when he got to the crook of her neck, and he paused for only a moment to let her savor the feeling before he kissed her again there, placing another soft lippy kiss in that same spot that evoked an exhale of breath that sounded like a moan she had suppressed as she pushed him away ever so slightly at the same time. The hand on his chest forced him two inches from her, and he obeyed her touch, his eyes meeting hers as the moon slid its light between the break of clouds.

Sára's lips were parted as she looked up at him and he took one of his hands from around her and put it on her hand that rested on his chest. He kept his gaze with hers for only a few seconds, searching in her eyes as best he could in the pale light provided by the moon. He saw her insecurity then, her fear, and he wished to drive that out of her, to show her the way to confidence that she so lacked. He took her hand from his chest and lifted it to his lips and kissed her hand once. He then let her hand go and slipped his grip from her as she did the same, leaving her wanting to feel his skin underneath those layers of formal garb.

They were but two inches apart still but not touching, and it was close enough for Loki to speak to her without having to lean in or whisper, "I need not touch you to know of your desire for me, darling." He was watching her eyes but she was gazing away, turning her head ever so slightly to listen to his words. He then averted his gaze as he made a startlingly truthful confession for the god of mischief, "Your scent alone intoxicates every fiber of my being. If you require of me, I can quell your appetite." At his last word she turned her eyes to his and caught his gaze, a gaze that told everything. She did not need to hear in words what appetite he was talking about, and he did not have to say it for her to understand. With that look, she knew exactly what he meant, and she had no reply as he cradled her emotions in calloused, blood soaked hands that she wished to cleanse with every day that passed when she did not see him. And when their paths managed to cross at social gatherings, her longing for him only grew stronger.

Loki saw all of this, and he gently took her hand from her side once more, his skin like fire against hers and he kissed the back of her hand as he bowed, but she was too stunned to curtsey back, "Dream of me tonight." That was low, almost mean to say to her in this fragile state. He could have left her in a sedated daze after he left, but with those four words, he left her just as lustful and frustrated as he felt. But he behaved himself when he felt these desires; this was something Sára was not accustomed to, and she stood there as darkness passed over her figure when the clouds moved across the moon, and the last shadow of Loki disappeared as he walked out of their secret meeting spot, turning right to pull himself together and join with the revelers at the ball.


	4. Chapter 4

Sára was torn in so many ways. He was Loki, all the realms knew his reputation and he had chosen her as his next victim. But in him there was something sweet and almost kind, though he was mean and coarse to those he ruled over and to his family. But with her it was different, he was always nice, always cordial and caring with whatever information she gave him of her life. He asked questions days later about small things, such as the breaking of a snow globe that had been on her shelf; she spoke about it in half a sentence and was pleasantly surprised when he brought up the subject, surprised that he had remembered.

She was torn when away from him, but when she was with him, he reassured her in every way that falling for him was the right thing to do, and that he was falling for her too. That his arms were open only to her, and yet they had to keep their relationship secret.

They stole away from a ball many weeks later, walking down a darkened hallway in the castle. Once they were properly around a corner, Loki took her hand and spoke in the darkness as he led her to a secret spot. "Do they notice?"

"Notice what?" Sára barely kept herself from stammering over her words.

"How you cross your legs tighter to banish the thoughts of me? Or the blush on your cheeks as you force yourself to avoid my gaze?" Just then he pulled her past a draped curtain and in to a small, private alcove. He pushed his lips to hers almost instantly and she threw her arms around him, grateful to be away from prying eyes and in his arms. He kissed her passionately and with all the love growing in his heart, and when he kissed her neck he savored the saltiness of her skin.

She bit her lower lip to keep from making any noise as he kissed her neck, and she felt his hands around her, one of them roaming over her curved hips. He loved her figure, and wanted to explore it more but knew to take his time with her; a darkened secret alcove was no place to take her for their first time. So he kissed up towards her ear, and ever the silver tongued God, his words drove her desire for him. As he pressed his pelvis against her, he made sure she could feel his hardness underneath all their layers of formal clothing as he slowly ground against her.

"Is this not easier, love, than fighting your desires, than fighting me?" he whispered to her. "I know you hunger for it," he heard her let out a soft moan in to the darkness and he cooed, "shhh," in to her ear and she bit her lip, thrusting her hips against him, wanting so much more. "I know how much you want it," he continued, placing a kiss on her throat once, "I know how much you crave it and beneath that little whimper I know the exquisite flame that burns in you." He pressed his hardness right against where he knew her sweet spot was and she let out a trembled exhale of breath, trying to control herself. She wanted more, that was clear, but he wouldn't give it to her tonight. And his merciless teasing was driving her up the wall, even though when she came out of this lustful daze she would know it was all for the better that they refrained until they could truly steal some hours together.

With that final kiss, Loki slowly pulled away from her, placing one last kiss on Sára's lips that she returned, and when he stepped away, she leaned forward only slightly more, wanting him more than she had thought. They each composed themselves, trembling hot breaths not speaking as nervous hands moved the curtain and they both returned together, just as they had left, and nobody seemed to look twice at the pair.

* * *

She said she'd been ready. He'd teased her enough and she wanted more, she wanted that closeness, her body yearning to be pinned down by his weight. He entered her slowly, keeping eye contact because he wanted to see the emotions in her eyes. He pushed in a little bit, then pulled out, then entered a bit deeper, and on the third thrust he was just beginning to bow his head towards her shoulder, eyes downcasting as he let the feeling of her wash over him when he heard her take in a sharp breath of pain. He froze his motion and looked up instantly to see her eyes closed tightly and he pulled himself nearly completely out of her, "You're not ready yet," he whispered in to her ear and pulled completely out of her, provoking a small whimper that he chuckled at, sitting up on his knees, in between her legs. She obviously wanted it, but he didn't want to hurt her. He brushed back his hair with strong fingers, looking down at the beautiful girl laying in his bed and grinned in the darkness at how lucky he was to have her laying there before him.

Then, using the silver tongue that was so skilled in the world of debate, he brought her to the brink of it but did not let her over. He did this twice, and the third time she couldn't take it. He pulled away as he could feel her getting ready, her body being easier to get to the brink each time. He had one hand under her leg and resting on her hipbone, her fingers laced with his and nails digging in to his flesh. He was using his other hand to gently push a finger in to her, but she proved far too sensitive. So he pulled his hand away and stopped his tongue from working and let her squirm there, watching as she waited, eyes closed and biting her lip. She moved her hips yearning for him, and after a good ten seconds without his touch, the tension that had been building broke and she let out a small whimper of defeat, taking in deep breaths as she laid there. Now that she had missed that third one, she could feel his breath down there, his body waiting as he watched the emotions cross of her face. She would do anything he said now, anything at all, to get to that point that he was denying her so painfully.

"You want it?" he asked her, leaning down to kiss her clit gently, provoking a small movement from her hips.

"Yes," she whispered back to him, as if it was forbidden of her to ask that of him.

"Well," he leaned down again and kissed her clit once more before pulling away quickly as he felt her nails stopped digging in to his hand; he knew he would have marks if not open wounds tomorrow, but that was his own fault for torturing her with such sweet longing. "You needn't ask." He rested his cheek against her thigh as he spoke slowly, looking down between her legs where he held complete control over her. But the room was nearly completely dark save for a candle in the far corner of the room, so he couldn't quite see her in all her beauty. "You needn't plead, nor beg," he leaned his head over ever so slightly and kissed the inside of her thigh before he looked up at her, seeing her eyelids open but her eyes staring at the curtains draped across the top of the four poster, mentally debating if she would do what he wanted, even though he hadn't asked it of her yet. "You need only pray."

He paused before he leaned down, and kissed to the left side of her folds, then to her right lip, her breath trembling from him. "Pray to me," he whispered then, "and I will give you all that you long for." And with that he commenced his work, tongue starting quick and hot against her, knowing this would take merely minutes since she was so close. And she prayed to him silently, praying to him from the depths of her soul and as she did he slid a finger in to her, the feeling of something entering her and his tongue driving her over the brink and when she crossed the threshold, instead of falling she floated on ecstasy as she moaned out his name and it was music to his ears.

The next time he entered her, she was ready, and when he flipped her over so that she was on top, he helped position her. He put her hands on his chest to give her balance, her legs bent and claves placed along the outside of his thighs. He then put his hands on Sára's hips and helped her move up and down, and as she did, she could feel her hips touching his as she went down, and then pulling herself off of him, giving her control over how deep he was in and out of her. She moved at a quick pace and when she went to shift her leg ever so slightly, she hit a spot. It was a spot that made her drag her nails over Loki's skin and curl her hands in to balls, and upon feeling that, Loki pushed his hips up towards her, letting out a groan of pleasure.

Sára heard that, but was unable to connect the dots in her brain to do it again because she was lost in such pure lust that Loki had evoked from her. He wanted her so badly, he wanted to come inside of her and then do this again tomorrow if only they were able. He would spend hours doing it if she would let him, if there was time. He flipped her over and she let out a gasp of surprise as he did this, putting her underneath him again. There was something intimate about getting off while being chest to chest, feeling each others hot breaths and choking on the shared air and lust.

Once he'd flipped her over he pushed hard and fast in to her and he let out a small moan of his own, "oh…" he choked back words, trying to hold himself back. He was getting there so quickly now, so he pulled one of her legs up and hooked his arm under it, knowing he may have to switch her legs if she didn't get off soon. But he wasn't sure he could hold back, her hot breath on his shoulder. After only a few second, he heard Sára gasp and she scraped her nails down his back.

Loki couldn't hold back, letting out a quiet groan as he felt her tense around him and he was completely gone in that moment. It was hot and intense, and then warm and his head was swimming with one of the most purely passionate moments he had had in years. He could feel Sára gripping to him as if for dear life before her orgasm subsided, the waves of pleasure coming immediately after and as he slowed his pace she could feel the wetness between them. His muscles felt as though they would melt from all the build up and release of their hours spend together. He finally slowed to a stop, breathing heavily, her scent filling his nostrils. She couldn't help it but her hips moved up against him as she felt one last spark of pleasure and he let out a trembled breath at this. She felt so good underneath him, and all around him, and with her hot hands on his sweaty skin.

Through heavy breaths he managed to kiss Sára softly and she returned the kiss through pants, fingers tingling. He then pulled out of her and laid beside her, pulling her body close and she grasped on to him, feeling the ultimate and complete release that she had never known.


End file.
